Star
by Liebling
Summary: “And so it caved. For, if you cannot be a star, she reasoned, then what’s the point of even living at all?” (A Weasley clan ficlet but mainly Ginny) Sometimes what matters most is what is just out of your reach...


They always used to tell her, in those silly little voices, "You'll be a star someday."  
  
Of course, she was young then, and she believed them. Those broth-brown colored eyes of hers that sparkled and shined as they looked at a toy horse or a tattered book.  
  
Then they'd glance over towards her Mummy. Happily and diligently baking a batch of oatmeal cookies. She was rather rounded and always wore that "dirty, yellow-stained apron." But she liked it, and that had always been all that mattered. It was "her" house and "her" home. And kill the fool who tried to take that away from her! She always smelled of butter and shortbread cookies. They always told her, in those cruel voices that everyone who knows anything knows humans can posses "Oh, Molly, come on, make something of yourself. Raising a load of children, we expected more." And she'd just giggle, like she always did.  
  
The eyes turned to her Father. That silly old man, who knew so little about everything and anything and yet, in the same way, acted as though he had the universe in his palm. She liked that about him. By no means was he a modest man, for the most part, he was quite cocky-despite it all. Despite the poverty. Despite the teasing he got from co-workers ("Another child, Arthur? Do you think you can afford it? At it again, Arthur?) He didn't mind though, he was odd like that. He'd just jut his chin up a bit and say, "Yes McNeil, another child." Or "Yes, Cathorn at it again I suppose!" He'd always been jolly like that.  
  
Oh yes, it was like that sometimes. Just happy. Simply being. But she was young then, and now, she hardly remembers happy times. Only sad times. Times filled with dismay and coldness. And the undesirable need to just stop living.  
  
Sad times when her Mummy would collapse upon the sofa and just cry. Cry her bloody eyes out. They always knew what it was about, of course, her family was breaking up, people all around the world were dying. The war between Light and Dark. Her face showed no warmth and they never saw her smile anymore. Just breathing, like some sort of ghost. Her spotted apron became too loose on her; she'd began losing weight. And the pretty young thing turned into a bedraggled older woman.  
  
Sad times when all her Father could do was tinker with old muggle objects. He wouldn't even be silly and give her piggyback rides anymore. He was tired. Tired of bills. Tired of wars. Tired of death. But most of all-  
  
Tired of living.  
  
And so it was like that for a while. A very long while.  
  
The wind didn't pass and the coldness seeped through their thin clothes. The rain never stopped as the cold drops pelted the glass window upon the Burrow. It was cold outside, undoubtedly, but their hearts were colder. A deep hole where a once beating thing used to lie.  
  
So it went on.  
  
Until one day, the girl decided that she was sick of War. She was sick of pain. She was sick of seeing her family in such a rut.  
  
"Daddy," she said peering at the graying man who was sitting by a hearth warming his feet.  
  
"Yes, sweetie?" he responded robotically.  
  
"I'll be a star someday, right?"  
  
For once in her life, she needed reassurance. She needed to be told that she was loved and that she was special. That someday she'd get her fairytale. For some things simply taste better from the tongues of others.  
  
Her Father took her hand and led her next to him by the hearth. The first few buttons of his dirties polo were undone and his pants were rolled up to his ankles.  
  
"I don't know," was the response. "I don't know if you'll be a star someday."  
  
It was then, that the world just tumbled in upon her. The mountains drew nearer finally barricading her. The sky crashed down upon the small Burrow. And for once, all hope was lost. Every single piece of it. The one thing that she had been hanging on to, since the beginning of time was finally gone. And so it caved.  
  
For, if you cannot be a star, she reasoned, then what's the point of even living at all?  
  
~*~  
  
La Fin. 


End file.
